"Please leave it off," said a spacey female voice. "It's nice when it's
dark."
As my eyes became accustomed to the eerie half-light, I finally made
out a figure. It was a short woman, childlike but probably mid-twenties.
"What are you doing in here?"
"I just wanted to, like, be with you." She'd done her dark hair in
multiple braids, with a red glass bead at the end of each. "You're
special. We all know it. That's why he brought you over here, to this
building. To be near them."
"What do you mean, 'special'?" I asked, heading for the closet and my
black jeans. Then I wondered. Near who?
Now she was reaching into a fanny pack she had around her waist and
taking out a baggie filled with plastic vials. "These are herbs I've
started growing here. I picked them for you. If you'll--"
"Slow down," I said, lifting my jeans off the hanger and starting to
struggle into them. Finally I took the baggie, moved to the window, and
tilted up the blind. Inside it were clear plastic medicine bottles
containing various gray and green powders and flakes.
My God, what's she trying to give me? And why?
"Listen," she went on, insistent. "Take those. Put two teaspoons of
each in water you've boiled and drink it. Every day for a week. They'll
make you strong. Then you'll be--"
"Hey, I'm going to be just fine, really." I set them aside and studied
her, still a ghostlike figure in the semi dark. There was a wildness in
her eyes that was very disturbing.
At that moment, Alex Goddard appeared in the doorway. He clicked on the
light, looking puzzled.
"Couldn't find the switch?" Then he glanced around. "Tara, did you get
lost? I thought you were doing your meditation. It's Sunday.
Afterwards, though, you can weed the north herb boxes if you want."
She nodded silently, then grabbed the baggie and glided out, her brown
eyes filled with both reverence and what seemed like fear.
"Who was that?" I asked, staring after her, feeling unsettled by the
whole experience. "She seemed pretty intense."
"Tara's been pretty intense for some time, perhaps for much of her
life," he declared with a note of sadness as he closed the door behind
her. "I've not been able to do anything for her, but I've let her stay
on here since she has nowhere else to go. She loves the gardens, so
I've let her work out there. It seems to improve her self-esteem, a
kind of benign therapy, her own natural path toward centering."